Badnight Sweetheart
by steve.piers
Summary: A pilot episode of a new series of Goodnight Sweetheart. Harry Starling's obsession with a mid-nineties sit-com takes him on a journey into an alternate universe where civilization has crumbled and a robotic cyborg Nicholas Lyndhurst may be to blame.


Badnight Sweetheart – a sequel to Goodnight Sweetheart.

By Steve Piers.

"I really hope you don't mind me asking, but is there something wrong with you?"

Harry Starling didn't appreciate being presented with this question, as he sat munching toast at the breakfast table.

"Don't be horrible", he replied to his wife Annette, "it's you that's got the problem, not me."

"Me?", quizzed Annette, "How dare you – this is your obsession, not mine. I leave this whole thing well alone. What could you possibly think is my problem here?"

"You just don't get it", replied Harry. "We've been together for eight years, and we work so well together. We have a lot in common and we also have our differences, but we always work through them. Why can't you just let me have this one thing? You call it an obsession, I call it a hobby. Why must we fight about it?"

"I'll tell you why!", shouted Annette, "because it IS an obsession. It's not normal. Some people collect stamps, some people spot trains, you watch Goodnight Sweetheart every fucking day and that's not right!"

Harry fought his corner.

"Yes, I do watch Goodnight Sweetheart every day and you know why? Because I LIKE IT. What's wrong with liking something? I don't criticise you when you watch your Desperate Housewives or Sex and the City? Why is it OK for you to like those programmes, and I can't be allowed to like mine?"

"Because they are GOOD programmes!", shouted Annette, "You can't argue that, even if you don't like them personally, they are well made, well written and are streets ahead of the drivel you watch. And I don't watch them over and over, every god damn day! Whereas you... You're addicted to this stupid sitcom, where they cast Nicholas Lyndhurst to play a man so sexy and charming that the ladies are falling over themselves to get near him. It just doesn't make sense. The main story could have been pretty good, but they just don't do anything with it. He's got the power to travel through time, and all he does is try to cop off with Dervla Kirwan from Ballykisangel. It's insulting."

"But I'm just a fan. There's nothing wrong with being a fan." defended Harry.

"Normally, that's true. But may I remind you what started this argument in the first place. What did you just tell me, five minutes ago?"

"I just want some alone time on Saturday, that's all!" he wailed

"Yes. To do what, again?"

"I want to go and walk through Duckett's Passage! Is that too unreasonable?"

Harry had been very excited to have found an actual Duckett's Passage in the London A-Z that morning, and had finally plucked up the courage to ask his wife for the day alone to check it out.

"Jesus Christ, this is pathetic", Annette retorted, "If you want to spend your day off looking for an alleyway from a twenty year old television show, then go ahead. I'm going to visit my mother. I hope you have a lot of fun. Don't expect your tea on the table when you get home."

Harry resigned himself to the fact that, whilst he knew Annette loved him really, she'd never come to understand or appreciate the real beauty of Goodnight Sweetheart. Yes, the show had its ups and downs. Yes it should really have been cancelled after the one really good series, instead of continuing to run even when most of the main actors had been replaced by almost-lookalikes. But there was something really special about the show, an indefinable quality that he'd never been able to explain to anyone else.

Goodnight Sweetheart was a show that should have been terrible from the start. Based around the exploits of television repair man Gary Sparrow, who found he could travel back to the second world war by walking through a time-hole in Duckett's Passage, the show focussed on a love triangle as Gary would cheat on his present day wife Yvonne with Phoebe, the pretty east end barmaid from 1942. The character of Gary Sparrow travels a story arc from naïve time traveller to potential love cheat, guaranteed to get away with his philandering due to his two lovers being 50 years apart. There were a number of good jokes in the script, for example, Gary played Beatles songs on the piano then claimed he wrote them. He saves a life by administering mouth to mouth, much to the initial disgust of everyone around him. In the final episode of the series, as Gary attempts to woo Phoebe with a verse from West Side Story, again claiming he wrote it, when the gravity of what he's doing really hits home as Phoebe receives a telegram to say her husband has been wounded in battle. At this point, Gary returns to his present day wife, and in a very moving monologue, tells his wife about the events of the series as if it was a wartime tale that he wasn't actually a part of.

And then, they made a second series. And a third. Eventually there were six series, with different actresses playing the main roles, and the whole show fell back into the world of silly sitcom, never regaining that wonderful storytelling that held the viewer throughout the first series. The likeable (and unconsummated) wartime romance of the first series developed into a tale of bigamy, sleaze and cheap science fiction. By the end of the final series, Gary has lied and schemed to both women for so long (and even has a child with Phoebe) that he stops being the likeable time-traveller, and just comes across as a thoroughly awful man. And, whilst most viewers never thought of the show again after it ended, even those who caught the occasional repeat on ITV4 would agree that, save for the first series, Goodnight Sweetheart was a pretty weak show. But Harry didn't think that. Harry loved every episode. All the way though to the end of series six, where Gary finally chooses to stay in the past with his wife and child. He bought the 12 DVD box set for a tenner off the internet. He listened to the directors commentaries. He watched the interviews with the stars. And he watched every episode, over and over again. He even liked the one where Gary ends up being chased by Jack the Ripper. And now, Harry was going sight-seeing in the east end of London, hoping to see the actual Duckett's Passage, and maybe even to walk down it – perhaps to 1942, he wondered. What a prick.

Saturday morning couldn't arrive quickly enough and Harry had set off especially early, leaving Annette in bed, undisturbed. He packed a flask of tea, made some sandwiches and plotted his route on his London A-Z. It would be a brisk walk to the bus stop, then he'd wait for the 6A bus, get off at Chiswick lane, cut through Kristie Alley, and that should lead him to Duckett's Passage, which he would hopefully recognise immediately as the famous Duckett's Passage, the one from his favourite show. He was surprised to see the name on the map having assumed that the writers would have created a fictional location name. He was also surprised to see he had to walk through Kristie Alley to get there, as he thought that was the woman from Cheers.

Harry disembarked from the bus, walked though the alleyway, and arrived at a location that looked extremely familiar. "Bloody hell, It's real! This is really it" he said to himself. He felt a huge wave of excitement come over him as he realised that he was standing exactly where Nicolas Lyndhurst had once stood. His feelings were those of a musician entering The Cavern Club, a Magician in Penn and Teller's Las Vegas Theatre, or Michael Fagan in the Queen's bedroom. He needed someone to take a photo, evidence to prove to himself later that this was not a dream. He looked around and saw a man walking in his direction wearing green overalls. Harry waved to attract his attention.

And he realised immediately that something was wrong.

The man in the overalls came over, and asked if he could help. Harry recognised that man in a heartbeat. Harry stood there, frozen. He couldn't speak.

"Are you OK?" asked the man. Harry looked at the overalls. There was a badge with the name of a TV repair company, and underneath that was what he assumed to be the man's name. This didn't make sense. For Harry had recognised the man immediately as Nicholas Lyndhurst, the actor, the kid from Butterflies and the Plonker from that other sitcom, but his badge said Gary, and as far as Harry could tell, this meant that he'd run into Gary Sparrow, about to walk through Duckett's Passage. Harry had no idea how this could be happening, but realised he had to say something.

"Erm.. Yes, I'm so sorry, I just completely forgot what I wanted to ask you", spluttered Harry, "But now I remember. Would you mind taking a photo of me next to the Duckett's Passage sign?"

"No problem", replied Gary Sparrow from TV's Goodnight Sweetheart. Apparently not the actor but the character.

Harry took his iPhone from his inside pocket and loaded up the camera app. He passed the phone to Gary, who seemed puzzled at what the hell this was.

"You just need to press the white circle on the screen", explained Harry.

"Wow, is this a camera? It's amazing! Look at that screen!" said Gary, "where did you get it?"

"It's an iPhone", replied Harry, "everyone's got them."

"What, it's a phone as well as a camera? You're kidding me, right? Seriously, what is it? The screen is amazing. Look at that screen!"

"Are you serious?" asked Harry, "You've never seen an iPhone before? I'd love to show it to you... do you have some time to grab a beer?"

"No, I'm sorry", replied Gary, "I'm on my way to a TV repair job, and I'm already running late. I'm trying to find Hugh Gaitskell House, it's around here somewhere, but I've been asking around and no-one seems to have heard of it."

Seeing an opportunity to point his hero in the direction of the original pilot episode storyline, Harry made a suggestion.

"I know Hugh Gaitskell House, it's down there, through Duckett's Passage."

"Thanks very much", replied Gary, "It's been nice to meet you – maybe I'll see you again sometime – you can show me that phone... camera... whatever it is."

"You won't be able to get rid of me" thought Harry, puzzled at exactly what the hell was going on, and how he'd managed to run into a fictional sitcom character from a long finished TV show. Or had he run into the actor playing a role? As Gary walked away through Duckett's Passage, Harry followed a safe distance behind. He watched as Gary faded into the distance, partway down the alleyway, and realised that something extremely strange was going on. He considered the conversation about the iPhone, and wondered what was the likelihood of a successful and well known British actor having never seen a smartphone. He realised what any half decent reader figured out half a page ago. Kristie Alley had a time portal of its own, and Harry had travelled through time to 1994. But that wasn't all, because he appeared to be taking part in an episode of Goodnight Sweetheart, with Nicholas Lyndhurst staying completely in character but with the plot completely derailed for five minutes whilst Harry distracted Gary. If this was a TV show, surely someone would have yelled "CUT!" and got Harry off the set. And Gary really did seem to be looking for Hugh Gaitskell house. This meant that Gary would arrive at the Royal Oak about five minutes later than expected. He should meet Phoebe, then be caught in the air raid and go down into the cellar where he saves Phoebe's dad's life. What if Gary decides he's running too late and and comes back through Duckett's Passage? What if he never goes into the Royal Oak at all? He'd go home to his wife and the entire six series, including the one that was good, would never take place. Harry racked his brains to remember the exact sequence of events in series one, episode one. He ran after Gary, hoping to catch him. Harry could make sure that Gary met Phoebe as expected and the show could carry on as normal.

–-

On the other side of Duckett's Passage, Harry did indeed find himself very much in 1942, and recognised every building, wartime cigarette advertising poster, everything from the pilot episode of his favourite television show. Harry realised that this was a studio set depicting 1942. Expansive and extremely detailed sets, but Harry did question how far he could continue to walk before hitting some kind of invisible boundary. There were no television cameras or green screens, no directors chair or key grip, this place was definitely a result of careful set design. Harry came to the realisation that there was no actual time portal in Duckett's Passage after all. Duckett's Passage itself was a real location in the real world, but all it led to was the location of the Goodnight Sweetheart set from 1994, dressed to look like 1942. This surely meant that Gary Sparrow was indeed the actor Nicholas Lyndhurst, playing the role of Gary Sparrow. His heart started to race as he realised that he may be about to meet the unspeakably gorgeous Dervla Kirwan in real life. But would she stay in character like Nicholas had? It was all starting to get very confusing. And what did Kirstey Alley from Cheers have to do with it all. Harry realised the story was starting to get very silly.

Time was of the essence, and so he ran into the Royal Oak. There was no sign of Gary, and behind the bar he could only see Phoebe's Dad, and there was only one customer, a tall thin man with wire frame glasses, sat nursing a pint at the table.

"Shit, I missed him!" exclaimed Harry"

"Oy! Ladies present!" said the man at the table, a statement that was surely to become a catch phrase as the show progressed.

"There's no ladies present Cyril, Phoebe's downstairs putting another barrel on." replied Phoebe's Dad before turning to Harry and asking, "Now then, what can I get you sir?"

"Oh... nothing thank you, I was just looking for someone. Have you seen a friend of mine, his names Gary, he's wearing overalls, and I'm pretty sure he may have been here recently".

"No, I don't know anyone of that name", replied Phoebe's Dad.

"Anyone called Nicholas Lyndhurst?", asked Harry, "It would have been in the last 10 minutes or so?"

"Never heard of anyone with that name, but he sounds like a right plonker" scoffed Phoebe's Dad.

The "ladies present" man piped up, "What about that bloke who came in earlier asking about Huey Gaitskell? He was wearing overalls, that could have been him?"

And then, like a beautiful shining light in the dull East End pub, the stunning actress, Dervla Kirwan entered the bar through a hole in the floor that lead to the cellar. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

"Holy shit, it's you... you're even more beautiful in real life!" muttered Harry.

"Oy! Ladies present!" said the man, who's catch phrase was already becoming unfunny and repetitive after only its second outing.

Dervla, or Phoebe (we're not sure yet) heard Harry, and replied bashfully, "Why, thank you kind sir. What can I get you?"

Phoebe's Dad chipped in, "Already asked him, he doesn't want anything, he's looking for someone, Gary, Nicholas or something".

"Actually," replied Harry, "I will stay for a quick drink. A beer please."

"Beer?" interrupted Phoebe's Dad, "you'll be lucky! Don't you know there's a war on?"

"My name's Harry by the way", offered Harry.

"Eric", replied Phoebe's Dad, "and this is my daughter Phoebe. Her husband Donald is away, fighting for his king and country, so don't you be getting any ideas."

The thought had never crossed Harry's mind, apart from all those times he watched the DVDs back home in his pants. He's only realised how much he loved her when he went on to series four and found she'd been replaced by Elizabeth Carling. As the song says, you don't know what you've got till it's gone. And now, she was back, here in a 1990s mock up of 1942, and so was Harry.

"Can I call you Dervla?" asked Harry.

"Why would you want to call her that? Who the hell is Dervla?" asked Eric.

"Ladies present!" said the man who's only job was to sit there and say that for 58 episodes, each more tiresome than the last.

Harry started trying to make sense of it all. He sat at the bar, chatting with Phoebe, all the time trying to understand why these actors from the mid 90s were continually staying in character. He wondered how on earth he'd managed to get into this situation. He continued to chat to Phoebe, as she told him more about her home life. She explained that ever since Donald had gone to fight in the war, her life had become repetitive, working in the Royal Oak, looking after her Dad, and shopping for food during the shortages of wartime. When she said she'd do anything to be able to go dancing one night, Harry seized his chance and asked her if she'd like to go out. By the time he realised that hours had passed and he had no idea or interest in where Gary had go to, it was getting late in the evening and he realised he had to be back home to Annette soon. Harry confirmed a date with Phoebe for the following night, told her it was lovely to have met her, and left the Royal Oak, ready to walk through Duckett's Passage, and hopefully, back through the timeportal in Kristie Alley.

It was outside, in the dark and lonely studio set that Harry heard the voice.

"AND CUT!"

Harry was startled by the sound of a voice through a megaphone. A man emerged from the shadows.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" the man shouted at Harry.

This time, no-one said "Ladies present."

Harry was stunned and couldn't speak.

"And where is Gary?" shouted the man, "JASON! Where are you, we need you!"

Another man emerged from the shadows, this man was apparently Jason. He walked over to the man with the megaphone whilst reading through some notes he was holding on a clipboard.

"Sorry David, I have no idea who this is. The scene should have started when Nicholas came in to the pub earlier. But he just stuck his head through the door, asked about Hugh Gaitskell House, then carried on his way. Then this joker comes in, starts calling Dervla by her real name and asks her out dancing instead. It's a mess."

The man with the megaphone turned to Harry.

"Harry. Is that your real name, or are you in character?"

"I'm not quite sure any more," replied Harry, "I just came to take a look at Duckett's Passage, I'm not really sure how I got here."

"Well, you need to go because you're ruining everything. And someone find Gary and get him to come here as soon as possible, because right now, the whole show is falling apart. Now get out of here."

–-

Harry emerged on the other side of Duckett's Passage, successfully traversed Kristie Alley, and made his way home in the dark, to his wife and his home, in 2013. By the time he got there, Annette was already in bed. He took a quick shower then slid under the sheets alongside her.

"Where have you been all day?" a sleepy Annette asked.

"Well, I found Duckett's Passage", replied Harry, beginning to feel the shock of the day's events.

"What are you talking about?" asked Annette, "Is that somewhere round here?"

"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you", he replied, "but it was something very special. Life changing even. I really don't know what the hell that was all about. But I'm going to find out. Because if I don't find Nicholas Lyndhurst and get things back on track, Goodnight Sweetheart might never have existed."

But Annette was already asleep.

–-

The next morning, Harry awoke with his head full of Goodnight Sweetheart. As if an idea had come to him in a dream, he got out of bed, leaving Annette to snooze, and ran downstairs and opened up his DVD cabinet. What he saw confirmed his worst fears. Where his beloved box set should have been was a single DVD case with a picture of Harry on the cover. He grabbed the box and read the information on the back cover.

"Goodnight Sweetheart is the best "worst-tv-show" ever!" began the blurb, "Starring Dervla Kirwan from TV's Ballykissangel, Goodnight Sweetheart defied explanation and confounded critics on its original broadcast. The single pilot episode, which went down in history as being "The most confusing sitcom ever - should be called Badnight Sweetheart (Gary Bushell, The Sun)" tells the story of a chance encounter between Phoebe, a beautiful barmaid from war-torn 1940s East End London, and a mysterious stranger called Harry who bursts into the bar one afternoon and stays all evening. Blamed by many as the cause of the troubles, this DVD gives you the opportunity to relive the bewilderment of the first time you saw the absolute train-wreck of a TV episode that is Goodnight Sweetheart. Running time 8 minutes, Rated 12 for two uses of the word shit".

Harry felt the repercussions of his actions. Goodnight Sweetheart as he knew it had ceased to exist. He knew he had to go back in time to 1994 and fix things. He decided there was no time like the present, or the past, to fix things, and went straight back upstairs to tell Annette where he was going.

"Darling... wake up please, I really need to tell you something."

Annette turned to face away from Harry.

"Leave me alone, I want to sleep."

"But darling, I need to talk to you – and besides, you'll have to get up for work soon anyway."

"What are you talking about? Leave me alone."

"Please get up darling, we need to talk."

Annette begrudgingly sat up in the bed, reached for her iPad and loaded up Facebook.

"Look Harry, you know as well as I do, there's no need to get up any more. I'm staying in bed again this week. What's with the sudden urgency to get out of bed anyway? How come you're up?"

"Something happened yesterday, and I'm not sure I can explain it", offered Harry, "I went to Duckett's Passage, and somehow destroyed Goodnight Sweetheart."

"Goodnight Sweetheart? That God-awful sitcom you were in? Jesus Christ Harry, will you just let that go? You had your five minutes of fame. Why on earth are you suddenly talking about that again? It's ancient history – surely no-one else but you remembers it, and if they do, it will only be because it was so terrible."

Harry was insulted and confused all at once. Why would his wife stay in bed all day for a week looking at Facebook on an iPad? When did she become so listless and lethargic? How come she had no memory of the six series box-set he loved? And why were there bars on his bedroom windows?

Leaving Annette to her lazy day, Harry left the house, intending to get the 6A bus like yesterday. He was stunned by what he saw. Gangs of youths, many carrying weapons, occupied each corner of the street. Houses were boarded up and gardens overgrown. One gang had set a car on fire and were watching it burn from the safety of a flat roof of a nearby property.

One of the youths shouted "five-oh!", which Harry recognised (from watching The Wire on DVD) as a warning signal that the police were on their way. The groups of youths scattered, hiding in houses, behind fences, and leaving Harry as the only person visible on the street. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a police helicopter appeared overhead and shone a bright spotlight directly onto Harry.

"Don't move!" came a voice over a loudspeaker.

A police car screeched up alongside Harry, and a door flew open.

"Jesus Christ, are you mad?" screamed a policeman, "get in the car right now".

Harry, confused and disorientated did as he was told. The car sped away as gang members emerged from their hiding places and started firing their guns at the car.

"What the hell were you thinking?" said the policeman, "You could have been killed! You left your house in broad daylight!"

"I don't understand", pleaded Harry, "What the hell happened to my street? Who were those people? What's going on?"

"Have you had a knock on the head or something Harry? You seem confused."

"I am...", he explained, "Do you know me?"

"Sure, your Harry Starling! Star of the short lived TV nightmare Goodnight Sweetheart!"

"OK, I need you to help me", pleaded Harry, "I think I'm suffering from amnesia. The last thing I remember is my street being a nice place to live, no gangs, no trouble – and a world where you could leave your house whenever you needed to. Please, explain it to me like you've never met me before."

"Oh my, you got it bad mate. You should know better than anyone, it was your silly sitcom that was the catalyst for all this. I'll take you to the hospital", offered the policeman, "they'll look after you. And I'll see if I can jog your memory on the way."

The policeman spent the whole journey to the hospital explaining as much as he could, and the confused now-former actor listened attentively.

"So Harry, there was a great deal of excitement back in '94, with a series of teaser trailers for a new sitcom. It starred the guy from Only Fools and Horses, which everyone liked back in the day. Oh, and the bloke from Bread was in it too. And that nice Irish girl from the telly. Rumour had it that this was going to be the sitcom to end all sitcoms. A time travelling adulterer from the present day who's got a bit on the side from 50 years previous? The idea was good. Maybe too good. I remember the trailers showed for weeks and weeks, and on the night of the first episode, every single household in the country sat down to watch it. The streets were deserted. When the theme song started to play, you could hear it through the walls of both of your neighbours and the whole country felt like it was living together in perfect unity – everyone as one. There had never been a TV event like it. Even Live Aid didn't come close. The anticipation had been enormous. And then... well, the show started. And it was baffling. Just complete nonsense. It started promisingly enough, but the main star just stuck his head round the pub door and asked a question, then left and was not in the show again. Then you turned up, chatted with the barmaid for a bit, then left, and the closing credits rolled. Well, the disappointment was felt across the nation. I remember my wife, she just looked at me and burst into tears. We just couldn't deal with the disappointment, and didn't know what to do. Then we heard the sound of breaking glass. We looked outside and saw that people had taken to the streets to express their anger. Before you knew it, there was a riot going on. We stayed indoors and watched on the TV news as the disruption spread all over the country. Every single town in the United Kingdom was overrun with what came to be known as "The Lyndhurst Effect". It just grew and grew and became completely out of control. And those riots just continued and society completely broke down. It's been nineteen years and no-one leaves their homes any more. They work from home, do all their shopping online, everything. Very few people even get out of bed since the iPad was invented. It's the end of days. And it's all down to your stupid 8 minute long sitcom. And we've arrived at the hospital, so here's where I bid you good day."

"No," replied Harry, "I'm OK. I'm fine. I understand everything perfectly. I don't need the hospital".

"You want me to take you home again?"

"No. Take me to Duckett's Passage."

–-

So Harry was dropped off at the end of Duckett's Passage, but without travelling through Kristie Alley first, all he could do was walk around Duckett's Passage 2013, until he realised his mistake. Then he wandered through Kristie Alley, but in the wrong direction, finding himself in 1994, but with a time warp blocking the way between him and the Passage. Eventually, as if solving a puzzle in the video game "Portal", Harry walked the other way through Carla Lane, then down Cleo Lane, to the far end of Kirsty Alley (or was it Kristie? Either way, it was too much of a coincidence all these silly street names), through the time portal back to 1994, then down the Passage to the mock up wartime studio set of 1942. It had taken longer than he thought, but he'd finally made it, back into the Royal Oak to see Phoebe. As they had arranged to go dancing that evening, he needed to know what time to meet her, so he could devote the afternoon to finding Gary. When he arrived, there was a quiet sadness in the bar, with many people dressed in black.

Phoebe saw Harry and came out from behind the bar and ran to him.

"Oh Harry!" sobbed Phoebe. "We were supposed to go dancing tonight weren't we?"

She hugged him and wept big damp tears into his jacket.

"I don't understand", asked Harry, "what happened?"

Through the tears Phoebe explained that the previous evening, shortly after Harry had left, there had been an air raid, and everyone in the bar had taken shelter in the cellar. Eric had remembered that he'd left all the days takings in the till tray, and went back up the stairs to retrieve it. There was an explosion and Eric fell back down the stairs and lay there unconscious. No-one in the cellar knew what to do, and so Eric just lay there as everyone watched, and he died later during the raid. Harry realised that this was all his fault. He knew that in the original pilot episode, Gary had also been in the cellar, and saved Eric with mouth to mouth resuscitation. The comedy came from the reaction of those around him, who had never seen two men kissing before, but now, with Gary out of the picture and Eric dead, Harry realised that there was no way the series could continue with the original script. Without Gary, there would be no romantic dinner in the Savoy Hotel in series one, episode six, and without Eric, no-one would come to the hotel with news that Donald had been captured in the war. The highlight of the series, the end of series one before it all started to go downhill was now impossible.

Harry was startled and blurted out that he was sorry but had to leave.

"I'll be back, I promise!" he yelled as he turned through the door and headed back through Duckett's Passage to real life in 1994. When he arrived there, he could not believe who he saw. He had to go over to introduce himself, but in this mixed up world of actors, studio sets and real life he couldn't be sure that who he saw was who he thought it was. He hatched a plan.

"Excuse me", Harry said, "Could I please have your autograph?"

"Certainly", the man replied, and pulled out a pen. Harry took a slip of paper from his wallet, and handed it to the man, who signed it, "Victor McGuire".

Harry felt deflated. This man wasn't Ron Wheatcroft from Goodnight Sweetheart. He wasn't even Jack from Bread, or Tony the neighbour from Sean's Show. He was just the actor, Victor McGuire, making him completely irrelevant to this situation. Nonetheless, Harry decided to chat with Victor to see if there was anything that he could do to help.

"Got a lot going on since Bread finished, Victor?" asked Harry, keeping up the pretence of being a fan.

"Actually, yes, thanks," replied the actor, not the character, "I'm on my way to an audition right now as it happens – there's a new sitcom in production, and they're looking for someone to play the main characters best friend".

"That would be Ron, wouldn't it? Goodnight Sweetheart?"

"Yes, that's right – how did you know? Are you involved in the show?"

"Actually, yes I am... In a way you may not believe. I'd really need to tell you more about it. Have you got time before the audition? We could grab a coffee."

Harry hadn't realised that in 1994, the ongoing campaign to turn every shop in every high street into a Costa, Starbucks or Nero hadn't begun, and it was quite a quest to find somewhere to sit and drink coffee and discuss everything that had happened. Sat together in a greasy spoon café, Harry explained about the premature death of Eric, the collapse of civilisation in 2013 and the time portal in Kirsty Alley. He begged Vic to take him to meet Nicholas Lyndhurst so he could put things right. Vic listened with interest and fascination, and didn't seem in the least shocked by any of the details, most specifically how 1942 was seemingly being lived out for real by well-known actors who never came out of character. But Vic understood and explained it all.

"Let me ask you something", said Vic, "You know those long running shows that are on every day? Neighbours, EastEnders, Home and Away, you know the ones. Do you ever wonder, how come the actors in those shows can do this every single day? Do they never go on holiday? Don't they spend time with their families?"

"Not really", replied Harry, "They film four of five episodes a day, don't they?"

"No, they don't", explained Vic, "The filming schedules match the broadcast schedules. So if they show one episode a day, they film one episode a day. Even on Christmas Day."

"So how do the stars of the shows get to spend time with their loved ones at Christmas if they are all appearing in TV specials?" asked Harry.

"It's complicated. But I'll do my best to explain. You see, I'm on my way to this audition right? When I get there, I'll read my lines and play the part, and if they like me, I get the job. But I'm not auditioning for the acting role. I'm auditioning to sell them my likeness rights."

"Likeness rights?"

"ITV has a huge factory, which is part-funded by every one of the UK television companies. In these factories, they make clones. Cyborg clones, metal machine exoskeleton covered in a perfect copy of the actors skin. If I succeed at the audition this afternoon, they'll take a blood sample and pay me my fee there and then. I take the family on holiday with the money, they make a clone from my DNA, and the clone acts the role."

"So there's two of you?"

"No, the clone looks like me, but it's created in the factory to be the character from the show. That girl you're going dancing with tonight isn't Dervla Kirwan. It's a robotic clone called Phoebe Bamford. And when the series eventually finishes, they'll melt her down and use the parts to make another clone for another show"

Harry was fascinated, but had questions to be answered.

"But, Dervla left the show after three series. If she's a clone, why not keep her through the whole six series?"

Vic theorised on why this could have happened.

"Not sure Harry," he explained, "but I'll give you an example. You see, sometimes, the clones become suspicious and start to realise that things in their world may not be all they seem. Let's say that Phoebe Bamford wandered down Duckett's Passage, and saw the real modern day world as it is, instead of the 1942 set they built. Let's say that Phoebe started asking questions. They'd have no choice but to melt Phoebe down straight away, get Dervla back to play the role whilst they audition someone else and make a new clone of them. In fact, it's not unheard of for them to use the DNA of the original actress, combined with the DNA of the new actress to make the new clone. When they replaced Dervla, did the new actress look similar to the last one?"

"Sort of", replied Harry, "in a really weird way. Like she looked much the same, but I didn't fancy her at all".

"Right", continued Vic, "that ties in then. So you see, there's nothing I can do to help you. If I take you to meet my friend Nicholas, he's not been involved in the show since the day he auditioned. You don't need to see Nicholas, you need to see his clone, Gary, and since that brief visit to the Royal Oak, he's gone off-script. All of them have. Eric's dead, Gary could be anywhere, and Phoebe's going dancing with you instead. It's a problem."

"I'm in Hell." muttered Harry.

"Maybe," pondered Vic. I like to believe in Dante's version of Hell from Inferno. You know the idea – there's not just Heaven and Hell, there's actually many different layers of hell, each one worst than the last. This whole situation, the time travel, the mess you've made, you could call this Hell, but I think you're at one of the higher levels. There's probably a way out for you, if you can find it. Look I have to go, but it's been good talking to you. At least I know that I'm going to get the job. If you pop into the Royal Oak later tonight, look out for my clone. We won't be in 1942 but he'll be around somewhere."

And so it went ahead as planned, with Harry taking the robotic clone of a grieving Irish actress to a wartime tea-dance. And as Harry held it close to him, he felt love. Not with this robotic monstrosity, but with the actress who shared her DNA, and looked and dressed exactly like her in the TV show, and therefore by definition, yes, he was in love with clone Phoebe because he couldn't tell it and Dervla Kirwan apart. Indistinguishable from the real thing, Harry was in love with Phoebe. As the evening drew to a close, Phoebe walked home arm in arm with Harry, and they both talked at length, realising that they had both found each other, and this was definitely the beginning of something special.

After returning to the Royal Oak, and spending more time getting to know each other, Harry kissed Phoebe. And this was the final test. There was no clunking of metal as they kissed, and no accidental crushing of hands like you'd expect if you'd ever seen The Terminator at the cinema. The night out had been wonderful, and Harry didn't want it to end. He knew, deep down inside that he'd fallen deeply in love with someone that was actually a cyborg clone of an actress playing the role of an East End barmaid in war-torn Britain, and he knew full well that the world in which he was occupying was merely a studio set. But he also knew that, as far as Phoebe was aware, this was real life. She was grieving the loss of her father, also a robot, who died during an air raid that was purely a combination of flashing lights and recorded special effects. Harry knew none of it was real, but Phoebe didn't and if she did find out, she'd be melted down and replaced. But back in 2013, when Harry had watched those DVDs over and over again, he also knew the story wasn't real, and that never bothered him. He preferred the fantasy world of the television show to real life, which is why he devoted so much of his time to watching it. And now he was here, living amongst these people. And even though Harry knew they were all robotic clones, the kiss from Phoebe proved to him that these things really were indistinguishable from the human original.

And then he thought about his wife. Unable to leave the house in 2013 for fear of riots and violence. Bedridden through choice, with only social media for company. It was at that moment, when Harry understood the difference between his feelings towards Pheobe and Annette, that he knew that it would be immoral to continue a relationship with both of these women at the same time. In a heartbeat he understood what a thoroughly unlikeable man Gary Sparrow was for cheating on his two partners, and also the difference between fantasy and reality.

He thought about what the actor, Victor McGuire had told him earlier. If this really was Hell, then Harry was at the best level of Hell he could wish for, for the time being. Here he was, surrounded by indistinguishable clones of characters he loved more than real life, and he was happy. Goodnight Sweetheart was a comforting television show that allowed him to forget about the stresses and pressures of life in 2013, which, since this ridiculous escapade, had become a war-zone he dreaded returning to. Harry couldn't leave Annette there, in that world. But he couldn't cheat on her with Pheobe. And that's when it all clicked into place in his mind, and he realised exactly what he needed to do.

Harry had to survive the many levels of Hell. He would start right now, as the evening had drawn episode one to a satisfactory, if disjointed closure. Then, tomorrow, he'd continue to see Phoebe, to live in 1942, and to act out the story lines of each episode to the best of his ability. But he'd do this the proper way. There would be no more time travelling, and no other woman in his life. He wouldn't lie to Phoebe like Gary did. Instead, he'd devote every moment of his life to making Phoebe happy, and doing the right thing by everyone around him. He'd make Goodnight Sweetheart a show about good people living through the Second World War. There would be no adultery. There would be no ludicrous plots about time travel, and no deception. Hopefully that would be enough to draw in the viewers and make the show a success.

Harry had to face the difficult truth of the situation. To pull this off, he'd have to descend much further into the deepest levels of Dante's hell. After living though the reasonably enjoyable second series, he would face a life of mundane, repetitive sitcom for at least another four years. He'd have to endure speaking dialogue written by a bored scriptwriter, paid to prolong the life of all these characters way beyond their best years until the show was inevitably cancelled. And he knew that as sure as night follows day, his beloved clone Phoebe would be replaced by a clone of Elizabeth Carling that almost looked a little bit like Phoebe, but without the soul or heart or acting ability of the original. He knew that by the end of the final series, he'd be living a life of phoned-in performances from tired worn out robots, living in far fetched and tiresome science fiction cliches. He'd have to be best of friends with a clone of an actor pretending to be Noel Coward. But he knew in his heart this was the only course of action he could take.

For all the nonsense that had taken place over the last two days, he'd finally learned what real love was, he knew that he'd found it, and that it made staying here with Phoebe the only option. Perhaps if he acted the role of a nice Gary Sparrow, one who didn't lie and cheat, maybe Goodnight Sweetheart would run for the whole six series after all. Perhaps a tale of a decent honest man would be enough to attract viewers. And maybe, just maybe this would make things right for the woman he now realised was his one and only true love. The woman he hadn't paid enough attention to in years. The woman he loved more than anyone or anything else in the world but would never see again. Because, as the song says, you don't know what you've got till it's gone.


End file.
